I finished most of a bottle of wine during dinner and could have gotten thoroughly pissed in the bar afterward if I hadn’t been dumping most of the drinks into a planter. We were still building the image: If the rented Chevy was often seen in the parking lot, it was just the drunk painter in the bar, or, if not in the bar, then the dining room. If not either, then probably in the can

I stopped at a phone on the way out, carrying my shoulder bag.

“On the way,” I said.

John had a room on the ground floor. We walked out of the bar toward the parking lot, took a left instead of a right, down an empty hallway, and knocked once on a door that opened instantly. John shut it behind us. Marvel was on the bed, cool as always.

“Whoa,” I said when I turned around.

“Sharp-dressed man,” John said a little awkwardly. He plucked at the seams of his trousers. “How do I look?”

“Like a thirties nigger from Harlem,” said Marvel.

“Supposed to look a little like that,” John said. He was wearing a dark blue double-breasted suit with pinstripes, a white shirt, a wine-colored power tie, and slightly pointed black wing tips. The jacket’s padded shoulders were a hair too wide, the waist a bit too narrow. The piÎ de résistance, a toupee with long straight hair, sat on top of his head. It fitted him well and had been combed through with an oily dressing until it shone. He looked sharp, like a subtle parody of a banker. Like a gangster.

“Think you can do it?” I asked.

“Yeah. I been in street politics long enough, and Marvel’s backed me up with some people who’ll say they know my name. People down in the capital.”

“OK. How about-“

Marvel interrupted. “Did you rob Dessusdelit and Ballem and Hill?”

I was ready for it. I glanced at LuEllen, my forehead wrinkling, then back to Marvel. “What?”

“Did you hit the mayor and Ballem and Duane Hill’s house?” She was watching me closely, but I can tell a lie.

“No. What the hell are you talking about?” Behind me LuEllen was shaking her head.

“Somebody hit their houses, really fucked them up,” John said. “Two nights ago. We thought-“

“Not us,” I said. “This could complicate things. If the cops are tearing up the town, looking at new people

“

“No, no, they’re not,” Marvel said. “Matter of fact, we’ve mostly heard rumors

There hasn’t been any official police report. A couple of white boys been picked up and squeezed, but that’s about it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll have to watch it. Can you have your people-“

“Sure. We’ll stay in touch,” Marvel said. She was still suspicious.

I turned back to John. “How about the rest of it?”